Rolling Stone's 50 Best Albums of 2012

If America named a singer/songwriter laureate, it would surely be Bruce Springsteen. Like his heroes Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger, the iconic rocker chronicles the grand struggles and small triumphs of everyday people. Though *Wrecking Ball* was written and recorded before the start of 2011\'s Occupy protests, it reflects the same frustration and even anger at the heart of that movement. Sampled loops and electronic percussion pepper the album, the Boss’ first studio effort since 2009\'s *Working on a Dream*.

Stepping away from both the pop songwriting machine and his former crew Odd Future’s stoned anarchy, Frank Ocean guides us on a meandering but purposeful journey through his own vast mythological universe on his major-label debut. *Channel ORANGE* breezes from sepia-toned Stevie Wonder homage (“Sweet Life”) to the corrosive cosmic funk of “Pyramids,” which stretches from ancient pharaoh queens to 21st-century pimps. Rendered in pristine detail with calm, dazzled awe, even his most fantastical narratives feel somehow familiar—at once unprecedented and timeless.

© 2012 The Island Def Jam Music Group ℗ 2012 The Island Def Jam Music Group

His devotees noted Shakespeare\'s final play was named The Tempest, but 71-year-old Bob Dylan shot down speculation that it means this will be his final album. For the past decade, Dylan has sounded remarkably comfortable in the recording studio, releasing a string of albums that capture vintage blues, R&B and country string band music to complement his road-worn voice. \"I ain\'t dead yet, my bell still rings,\" he sings on the \"Mannish Boy\"-influenced \"Early Roman Kings\" and it sounds like a reassurance. Dylan susses meaning from phrases others throw away. This is dark, dusty music with secrets tucked inside its riddles. \"Duquesne Whistle,\" a collaboration with Robert Hunter, shuffles down the line. A hypnotizing riff works over \"Narrow Way\" for seven-plus minutes as Dylan quotes the Mississippi Sheiks. On \"Pay In Blood,\" Dylan sounds like a man settling a score. \"Scarlet Town\" and \"Tin Angel\" extend the narratives, but it\'s the title track that squeezes 45 verses into 14 minutes for an epic that wanders from shipwreck to Leonardo DiCaprio without losing the thread.

West Coast hip-hop elders like Snoop and Dre have virtually anointed Kendrick Lamar to carry on the legacy of gangsta rap. His second studio album *good kid, M.A.A.d city*, conceptual enough to be a rock opera, certainly uplifts the genre with its near-biblical themes: religion vs. violence and monogamy vs. lust. Verbally nimble, Lamar experiments with a variety of different lyrical styles, from the Bone Thugz-type of delivery on “Swimming Pools (Drank)” to the more straightforward orthodox G-funk flow on “m.A.A.d. City feat. MC Eiht.” Like prog rock, Lamar’s tracks have songs within songs—sudden tempo changes with alter egos and embedded interludes, such as unscripted recordings of his parents asking for their car back and neighborhood homies planning their latest conquest. These snippets pepper the album providing an anthropological glimpse into his life in Compton.

As the first volume of a projected three-album set being released in two-month intervals, *¡Uno!* starts with the anthem \"Nuclear Family.\" Old punks will note that the track recalls the punk schematic of The Clash\'s \"Safe European Home.\" Green Day has never been shy about revealing its excellent taste in music, and if turning 40 has the band members reaching back for an extra push and singing \"Carpe Diem,\" then it\'s also focused them on making tight, powerful pop songs with distorted guitars guiding the way. After the rock operas *American Idiot* and *21st Century Breakdown*, Billie Joe Armstrong was determined to get back to the band\'s punchy beginnings, where three minutes can tell a whole story. In light of Armstrong\'s personal woes, songs like \"Let Yourself Go\" and \"Loss of Control\" take on added weight. Most surprising is the reggae/dance groove of \"Kill the DJ,\" where Green Day finds its way onto a dance floor with a few moves of its own. The deluxe version includes four videos of tracks from the album.

Jimmy Cliff’s anthemic compositions “The Harder They Come” and “Many Rivers to Cross” are among reggae’s most recognizable tunes, and his portrayal of populist gangster Ivanhoe Martin in the film *The Harder They Come* gave reggae its greatest bad-man archetype. Cliff’s 2012 release *Rebirth* is a collaboration between the rough-throated singer/producer and Tim Armstrong, frontman for Bay Area punk revivalists Rancid. Armstrong’s ear is unusually attuned to classic reggae\'s rhythms and textures, and he provides Cliff with a warm, organic sound that evokes the bubbling atmosphere of Kingston in the late ‘60s, an era when Cliff’s tales of hardscrabble sufferers were played end-to-end with soulful rocksteady by the likes of The Wailers and The Sensations and stomping rude-boy tunes by Prince Buster and Honeyboy Martin. That’s not to say *Rebirth* is completely revivalist. Indeed, some of its strongest moments come when Cliff puts his unique spin on rock numbers like The Clash’s “Guns of Brixton\" or Rancid’s own “Ruby Soho,\" which in Cliff’s hands becomes a bracing ska workout. 

On *Old Ideas*, his 12th studio album, the iconic singer/songwriter/poet continues his exploration of the spiritual, the sensual, and the cycle of life over the course of 10 songs. His unexcitable, half-spoken baritone is a calming, lyrical guide, with vocalists Dana Glover and The Webb Sisters and longtime collaborators Jennifer Warnes and Sharon Robinson providing tonal contrasts. With dual piano and organ accompaniment, “Show Me the Place” has the solemn levity of a modern hymn. The bluesy “Darkness” and the cabaret-friendly “Different Sides” showcase Cohen’s noirish and uptempo sides. “Banjo\" has a rural North Americana arrangement, appropriately enough, with an unexpected, Dixieland-like clarinet-and-trumpet interlude.

Dr. John goes on the attack in *Locked Down*, an utterly uncompromised 2012 collaboration with coruscating Black Keys guitarist Dan Auerbach. The 71-year-old hoodoo guru foments rebellion in \"Revolution\" and attests to his salvation in \"God\'s Sure Good,\" riffing and jiving like his life depends on it. The music, a relentlessly rocking assemblage of R&B, funk, rock, and soul, sounds ageless and agile, like all of Louisiana distilled into a heady reborn brew.

*Born and Raised* is a set of organic cowboy songs dreamed up under a starry night sky. Songs like “Queen of California” and “Shadow Days” reflect a countrified worldview. “If I Ever Get Around to Living” shimmers with intricate arpeggios and gentle backup vocals. Melancholy harmonicas inform the mood of “Whiskey, Whiskey, Whiskey” and “A Face to Call Home.”

Band of Horses’ sentimental songs may inspire you to run barefoot through grassy fields. Vocalist Ben Bridwell has been the sole continuous member since the group’s 2004 inception. However, each Horse earned songwriting credit on 2010’s GRAMMY®-nominated *Infinite Arms*, as they banded together to produce the majority of the album themselves. The result was a bucolic slice of Americana filled with folksy harmonies, rootsy country sounds, and alt-rock embellishments—a vibe that’s echoed on “Knock Knock,” the lead single from Band of Horses’ fourth studio album, *Mirage Rock*.

In 2009, Cleveland’s Dylan Baldi began writing and recording lo-fi power-pop songs in his parents’ basement, dubbing the project Cloud Nothings. His music quickly started making the Internet rounds, and fans and critics alike took note of his pithy songcraft, infectiously catchy melodies, and youthful enthusiasm. Baldi soon released a string of 7”s, a split cassette, and an EP before putting out "Turning On"—a compilation spanning about a year’s worth of work—on Carpark in 2010. January 2011 saw the release Cloud Nothings’ self-titled debut LP, which, put next to Turning On, found Baldi cleaning up his lo-fi aesthetic, pairing his tales of affinitive confusion with a more pristine aural clarity. In the interval since the release of Cloud Nothings, Baldi has toured widely and put a great deal of focus on his live show, a detail that heavily shapes the music of his follow-up album, "Attack on Memory." After playing the same sets nightly for months on end, Baldi saw the rigidity of his early work, and he wanted to create arrangements that would allow for more improvisation and variability when played on the road. To accomplish this desired malleability, the entire band decamped to Chicago—where the album was recorded with Steve Albini—and all lent a hand in the songwriting process. The product of these sessions is a record boasting features that, even at a glance, mark a sea change in the band’s sound: higher fidelity, a track clocking in at almost nine minutes, an instrumental, and an overall more plaintive air. The songs move along fluidly, and Baldi sounds assured as he brings his vocals up in the mix, allowing himself to hold out long notes and put some grain into his voice. Minor key melodies abound, drums emphatically contribute much more than mere timekeeping, and the guitar work is much more adventurous than that of previous releases. For all of early Cloud Nothings’ fun and fervor, Baldi admits that it never sounded like most of the music he listens to. With "Attack on Memory," he wanted to remedy this anomaly, and in setting out to do so, Baldi and co. have created an album that shows vast growth in a still very young band.

Indie rock connoisseurs will recognise the names behind Divine Fits—Britt Daniel (Spoon), Dan Boeckner (Wolf Parade), and Sam Brown (New Turk Bombs). The band’s debut album was produced by Nick Launay (Nick Cave, Yeah Yeah Yeahs) and features five songs apiece by Boeckner and Daniels, plus a cover. From the crisp modern rock tension of “Flaggin’ a Ride” to the acoustic loveliness of the bittersweet “Civilian Stripes” or the haunting “Neopolitans,” Divine Fits prove to be an inspired collective. *A Thing Called Divine Fits* comes with a five-page digital booklet with lyrics, recording credits, and artwork.

Texas has given the world its fair share of estimable blues guitarists and Austin\'s Gary Clark, Jr. takes the blues into the 21st century with a soulful fuzztone that breaks through the hype. But it isn\'t just heavy guitar workouts that establish the man\'s credentials. The title track prefers a light touch, a comfortable mix of hip-hop rhythms and early 70s Philly Soul. That\'s Clark\'s modus operandi: do it all and do it right. \"When My Train Pulls In\" and \"Bright Lights\" blister like vintage Robin Trower and Stevie Ray Vaughan. \"Travis County\" embarks on a Stones-like romp that could\'ve been found on *Exile on Main St.*. \"The Life\" tests out computer technology with a bright hip-hop groove and a tune that\'s pure pop and soul. \"Glitter Ain\'t Gold\" and \"Numb\" work the same blues-avenues as the Black Keys, while \"Ain\'t Messin \'Round\" kicks up a horn chart and a sense that someone\'s rewriting \"Satisfaction\" with great skill and enthusiasm while adding a gorgeous vocal hook to the chorus. There aren\'t many major label debuts this rich in pure talent and ambition.

After two albums of harmony-heavy dream pop, Beach House continued its dazzling evolution with 2010‘s *Teen Dream*, which we named Best Alternative Album in iTunes Rewind. The ethereal, hypnotizing melodies are as gorgeous as ever on the duo’s forthcoming *Bloom*. From the jump, a sinewy guitar melody gets blanketed by blissful atmospheric mist on “Myth.” While *Teen Dream* introduced more complexity (which is echoed on the weightless, organic melodies floating from composition like “Troublemaker”), *Bloom*’s “On the Sea” proves that Beach House can also drop our jaws (and give us chills) with stripped-down, piano-driven journeys.

Bloom is the fourth full-length album by Baltimore-based Beach House. Like their previous releases (Beach House in 2006, Devotion in 2008, Teen Dream in 2010), it further develops their distinctive sound yet stands apart as a new piece of work. Bloom is meant to be experienced as an ALBUM, a singular, unified vision of the world. Though not stripped down, the many layers of Bloom are uncomplicated and meticulously constructed to ensure there is no waste. Bloom was recorded in 2011 at Sonic Ranch Studios in Tornillo, TX and mixed at Electric Lady in NYC. The band co-produced the record with Chris Coady.

*Away from the World* is the first Dave Matthews Band record in 14 years to be produced by Steve Lillywhite and recalls their ‘90s heyday—the dynamic, orchestral folk-pop of “Mercy,” for example—without falling victim to retracing their steps. They go for broke with some heavy riffage on the stomping, high-energy “Rooftop,” and “Belly Belly Nice” is a majorly funky, toe-tapping trip. It ends with the nearly 10-minute “Drunken Soldier,” as Matthews offers life advice over delicate folk, rockin’ crescendos, and hazy, soft funk.

In a primary color, Taylor Swift captures the essence of her fourth record: it represents her taste for vengeance, her hot-blooded romantic streak, and the neon-lit pulse of a dance floor. The banjo pluck of the title track and acoustic ballad “All Too Well” will resonate with country fans, but glossy singles like “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together\'\' and “I Knew You Were Trouble” seem destined for a broader audience—one that’s just as vivid as the title suggests.

Recorded over three weeks in a darkened room, the third album from Canadian singer/producer Grimes, a.k.a. Claire Boucher, packs an idiosyncratic punch. At once grating and soothing, melodic and dissonant, *Visions* manages to sound like a pop record above all else, with contorted melodies that seep into your brain. Boucher tangles up her eerie falsetto with crackling beats and pinging synths, resulting in a gnarled amalgam of textures—electro-pop rendered as splatter art. It\'s fascinating and wholly original all the way through.

With the rollicking, retro-tinged rock ’n’ roll of their debut, Alabama Shakes injected a righteous dose of guitar-driven jams into the musical landscape of the ’10s. Led by Brittany Howard’s gritty howl—her turn on the soulful stunner “I Ain’t the Same” is a punch straight to the gut—*Boys & Girls* shows the power of keeping things simple. The head-nodding groove of “Hold On” delivers a summery, hypnotizing haze, while the slinky guitar and bright piano bounce of “Hang Loose” inspire deep chill vibes.

With disparate contributions from its four members, Grizzly Bear’s sound has long been multifaceted and thoughtfully layered. Repeated listening is frequently rewarded with newly discovered textures and details. “Sleeping Ute” opens *Shields*, the group’s fourth studio album, and is almost like a three-movement piece; alt-country–tinged guitar and bass introduce the song before a swirl of keyboards, buzzy guitars, and thunderous drumming transpires. A vocal and Spanish-style acoustic guitar outro make for an unresolved conclusion. *Shields*\' most straight-ahead modern rock number, “Yet Again,” is in the melodically accessible vein of “Two Weeks” from Grizzly Bear’s previous release, *Veckatimest*. A showcase for multi-instrumentalist Christopher Bear’s tuned percussion and lyrical drumming, “A Simple Answer” is bathed in emotive longing. There’s an addictive new wave pop sound to the nuanced “gun-shy,” while “Sun in Your Eyes” starts and ends as a piano ballad, transforming into a chamber rock *pièce de résistance* in between.

Recorded after Damon Albarn spurred the soul great’s return to music as a guest in Gorillaz, Bobby Womack’s final album evokes his past glories while sounding contemporary. Musical settings range from the title track’s symphonic trip-hop to the eerie electro-gospel of “If There Wasn’t Something There” to a haunting duet with Lana Del Rey on “Dayglo Reflection.” But for all their variety, the songs keep Womack’s weathered yet impassioned voice front and center, ensuring he gets the swan song he deserves.

Justin Townes Earle’s got the blues. A serious undercurrent of unhappy thoughts courses through *Nothing’s Gonna Change*, the fourth full-length from the talented Nashville musician. In the place of gospel or rockabilly seasoning, Earle goes to the sound of Memphis soul, with horns, unhurried arrangements, and a voice that often sounds like he’s just taken a gut hit. There are signs that perhaps his struggle to stay outside the hard-partying life has taken a backseat. Lyrics like “I tell her I’ve been getting sick again/we both pretend we don’t know why” suggest he’s not too happy with his current state. On the chillingly beautiful “Unfortunately, Anna,” his frustration and despair is palpable: “I’m feeling low and downright mean,” he breathlessly snarls as a steel guitar exhales in the background. The music ranges from the kind of quiet introspection fans of Nick Lowe will appreciate (“Am I That Lonely Tonight?,” “Won’t Be the Last Time”) to a pop-country blend that recalls Lyle Lovett (“Maria,” “Memphis in the Rain”) and a scattering of horn-inflected barroom shuffles (“Baby’s Got a Bad Idea,” “Look the Other Way”).

*Local Business*’s opening lyrics are: “Okay, I think by now we’ve established that everything is inherently worthless, and there’s nothing in the universe with any kind of objective purpose.” It’s grim to read, but when performed it sounds like life-affirming rock \'n\' roll meant to crush such existential dread. Patrick Stickles has a lot to say, and he’s not afraid to bare his own insecurities and personal frustrations while he’s at it. Eating disorders, consumerism, nihilism, and the absurdities of human nature are explored from various angles. Yet Stickles can pull it off and make his point of view thought-provoking, relatable, and even funny due to his odd mix of hopelessness and lust for life. *Local Business*, Titus Andronicus\' third full-length, isn\'t a concept album like the Civil War–themed *The Monitor*, but it\'s ambitious in its own right. Rather than featuring a large group of revolving musicians as before, here the band is stripped down to five members: three ragged, crunching guitars and a steady drum-and-bass rhythm section. The sound is tightened up and tough, with fist-pumping choruses and sharp tempo breaks. This is workingman’s punk delivered with a jolt.

What started when Michael Angelakos self-recorded a Valentine’s Day EP as a gift for his girlfriend has now evolved into a Boston-based quintet with a thoroughly amazing sophomore album. “Take a Walk” picks up where Passion Pit’s praised 2009 debut, *Manners*, left off. “I’ll Be Alright” finds them at their most experimental, with hyper-edited cut-up arrangements tangling up and then unravelling to reveal an uplifting electro-pop standout.

At its core, The Avett Brothers consist of siblings Scott (banjo, vocals) and Seth (guitar, vocals), with Bob Crawford contributing stand-up bass. After years of recording and steadfast touring, the North Carolinians released their major-label debut in 2009 (*I and Love and You*), with legendary producer Rick Rubin (Johnny Cash, Tom Petty) at the boards. For its follow up, *The Carpenter*, the bluegrass-rooted trio reunite with Rubin, who lends a light touch to these highly textured tunes. The Avett Brothers introduce their sound as “lonesome” on the gentle, yet stirring opener (“The Once and Future Carpenter”), then profess, “We’re all in this together—if I live the life I’m given, I won’t be scared to die.” It’s this at-times plaintive, yet unwaveringly honest spirit that makes their tracks so compelling—even a bleak song like “Winter in My Heart” sounds sweet thanks to bright vocals and vivid lyrics. Sprinkled amidst the folk-tinged collection are some soulful jams (“Pretty Girl from Michigan,” “I Never Knew You”) that illustrate Scott and Seth’s rock ‘n’ roll roots.

Never has such unadulterated glee, desire, and youthful exuberance been so perfectly filtered as it has on anthems like \"We Are Young,\" \"All Alone,\" or \"Some Nights\"; rarely has a pop vocalist come through such lavish instrumentation and prodigious production with the results Nate Ruess delivers. His voice reaches and stretches, always with enough plaintive sincerity and sparkling energy that it avoids saccharine pop purgatory with room to spare. Producer Jeff Bhasker (who produced Kanye West\'s *My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy*) knows the meaning of the word \"big,\" and precious few are the studio wizards who know exactly when to rein it in. *Some Nights* is an undeniably massive record, in all the good ways.

Muse faced a creative challenge when following up its immensely successful last studio release, 2009\'s *The Resistance*. The trio from southwestern England responded with a concept album, *The 2nd Law*, that keeps building on its big sound and diverse styles. Referring to the second law of thermodynamics, the ambitious recording tells the story of a resource-strapped planet that can no longer support its inhabitants. “The Second Law: Unsustainable” starts with a dramatic orchestral and choral opening arranged and conducted by David Campbell (Metallica, Sheryl Crow) before transforming into a dramatic techno-rock showcase. Performed at the closing ceremony of the 2012 Olympics, “Survival” presents a more inspiring (and pop-friendly) narrative.

From his opening rasp, Todd Snider channels Randy Newman. He wryly serves himself up as the town crier and gets down to business with a greasy blues that traces the history of inequality and touches on the history of religion. The Occupy movement might find its most caustic musical spokesman in Snider. However, he\'s not one to be easily characterized. \"New York Banker\" tells of a teacher who learns what happened to his retirement nest egg, but Snider unspools plenty of other stirring tales. \"Brenda\" is a love song for Mick Jagger and Keith Richards; it\'s based on Keith\'s nasty nickname for his lifelong pal and features a Richards-like guitar riff. \"West Nashville Grand Ballroom Gown\" is done up as a gnarled cover of the Jimmy Buffett tune. Fact is, the *sound* of this album is raw and fantastic, reliant on Snider\'s rudimentary acoustic guitar, Amanda Shires\' hearty violin, and vocal harmonies that are rough and ready to take on all challenges.

Said to be “an album within an album,” the 13-track *Oceania* is part of the greater 44-track *Teargarden by Kaleidyscope* project. No matter what the concept or the intention, Corgan here issued his most melodic and adventurous album since the underrated *Adore*. Other albums aimed for a hard rock aggression that often centered on Jimmy Chamberlin\'s muscular drumming. But with Chamberlin missing from the ranks and a new bassist, drummer, and guitarist, Corgan starts *Oceania* with the psychedelic freakout of “Quasar” before settling into the luxurious “The Celestials,” which itself leads to the mellotron prog of the haunted “Violet Rays.” Looped synth lines, rudimentary keyboard notes, and a lonely electric guitar spend nearly two and a half minutes building up to the acoustic-based ballad “Pinwheels,” where harmonies and further experimentation create the album\'s tripped-out center. The heavy moods of “Panopticon,” “Pale Horse,\" and “The Chimera” further prove that Corgan the explorer is still working overtime.

On Dirty Projectors sixth album, Swing Lo Magellan, songwriter and leader David Longstreth shows he really doesn't know how to do the same thing twice. Where prior Dirty Projectors albums investigated 20th-century orchestration, west African guitar music and complex contrapuntal techniques in human voices, Swing Lo Magellan is a leap forward again. It's an album of songs, an album of songwriting. Swing Lo Magellan has both the handmade intimacy of a love letter and the widescreen grandeur of a blockbuster, and if that sounds like a paradox -- it's because it was until now.